


59 Floors

by GreenSaplingGrace



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Broken Bones, Caretaking, Cloud Strife Needs a Hug, Cloud Strife Whump, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, POV Barret Wallace, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fill, Protective Barret Wallace, Protective Tifa Lockhart, Soft Barret Wallace, Soft Cloud Strife, Soft Tifa Lockhart, Touch-Starved, Tumblr Prompt, Whump, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSaplingGrace/pseuds/GreenSaplingGrace
Summary: The stairs seem endless as Barret climbs them, exhausted and shaking from the strain. Just ten more stories, he tells himself, only ten more to go. Then a blur shoots past him, a sickening twist of blonde and black, and he knows this night is about to get a whole hell of a lot worse.Cloud falls 59 floors on the day of the Shinra infiltration, and Barret sees him pass every single one, but nothing could prepare him for what happens next.
Relationships: Cloud Strife & Barret Wallace, Tifa Lockhart & Barret Wallace, Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759225
Comments: 22
Kudos: 268





	59 Floors

**Author's Note:**

> see endnotes for trigger warning and author's note
> 
> Prompt: Cloud Wing!Fic  
> With: H/C, Bad Reveal, & Family Feels  
> (Take 2)

Barret doesn’t know whose sick idea it was to build a 59 story building, but if he ever meets them, he’s gonna shove his gun so far up their ass they’ll be spitting bullets for _years._

The stairs seem endless as Barret climbs them, exhausted and shaking from the strain. Tifa and Cloud are having the time of their lives, dancing up the steps as if it’s a game and not a damn workout. Tifa’s already at the top, with Cloud only a few stories behind her, and Barret’s just struggling not to collapse with every step he takes. _Just ten more stories,_ he tells himself, _only ten more to go._

Then there’s a clang, an echo of a gunshot ringing in a discordant chorus down the rows of metal, and Tifa _screams._ Barret increases his speed, pounding up the steps and readying his gun arm, but it’s already too late. A blur shoots past him, a sickening twist of blonde and black that he knows all too well, and he desperately breaks away to dive for it. His fingers brush only briefly on rough cotton, stomach dropping to his feet as Cloud plummets past without so much as a pause.

“Cloud!” Tifa screams again, high and anguished, and Barret doesn’t need to look up to know she’s hanging over the railing just as he is, eyes wide and tears streaming.

For a moment they're both frozen, watching with horror as he falls, and then there’s a thunder of steps as Tifa begins to rush down. Barret doesn’t move, though. Overwhelmed and ashamed and wishing to _Gaia_ that something will happen - _anything_ \- to stop Cloud from landing.

No amount of prayers could prepare him for what happens next.

A crack splits the air, Cloud’s form twitching and writhing before a streak of black cuts from his body in a spray of feathers. Tifa gasps, coming to another clanging halt, and Barret stares wide eyed at the _wing_ Cloud’s just sprouted, long and dark and gruesome in the dim lighting. For the first time since he fell, Cloud yells, legs kicking and arms cartwheeling in a startled panic. His wing catches on the crisscross of wires with a sickening snap, harsh movements quickly landing him on another, and the burst of air from his lungs can be heard from 40 stories up as his stomach meets the unforgiving metal, descent brutally halted.

The silence that falls over them is shocked, both Tifa and Barret once more frozen in place. Then Barret shakes his head, blinking in the hopes of clearing the fucking hallucination of a _wing_ from his mind.

“What the everlovin’ shit just happened?”

“Oh Gaia! Barret, we need to get down to him!” Tifa’s footsteps resume, but all Barret can do is shake his head again. He looks away and looks back but- nope. The wing is still there.

“Do you see that?!”

“Yes! I see it, Barret. Now really isn’t the time. He could be dead. He could be-” Tifa bounds past him as if she hadn’t been eight stories above him not thirty seconds ago, and the grip she forms around Barret’s wrist is enough to make him wince. She doesn’t even hesitate when she reaches for him, and Barret finds himself yanked along with her in order to keep from tearing her arm from its socket.

“Fuck, that was forty levels. There’s no way.”

“He has to be. He’s- he’s a SOLDIER. They’re stronger, right? They- oh, Gaia. How did this happen?”

The guilt almost swallows Barret whole. He’d _had_ Cloud. Had grasped him and _felt_ him in his fingers, but he hadn’t been good enough. _One of his team could be dead._ Cloud isn’t his team, though. Cloud is-

“The hell did he do? Get _shot?”_

“He didn’t _do_ anything, Barret! This isn’t his fault.”

 _No, it’s Barret’s._ He pushes back the guilt and focuses on keeping calm. Tifa isn’t doing so well right now, and Barret can’t afford to let his feelings get the better of him when the only two other members of his team are down for the count.

“Was there a guard at the top?” he asks, breathless and stumbling for a second as the numbness in his legs catches up to him. Tifa nods sharply, still rocketing down the stairs as if a fire’s at their heels. She glances over the railing to check on Cloud, and Barret reluctantly allows his gaze to follow hers.

His stomach lurches at what he sees. The dark wing is bent at an odd angle, caught on one of the higher wires, while Cloud himself lays folded face down over another. He isn’t moving, which is already a bad sign, but he’s also bleeding. It’s a dark patch on the shoulder that Barret hadn’t been able to notice from higher up, and what makes it apparent now is the spread of blood slowly dripping down his neck. It gathers stark and bright red in his blonde hair, and Barret can hear Tifa’s breaths grow shaky as she catches sight of the same thing.

She picks up the pace, and Barret follows readily. “Was it just one bullet?”

“Y-yeah,” she pants, finally appearing a bit winded from all of the running, “it was just the one guard. At the top of the stairs, I mean. He got a shot in before I could take him out…” She trails off at the memory, brow furrowing with guilt, and Barret lays a steady hand on her shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was ahead of him, though. I should have seen, but it caught me by surprise.”

“You made a mistake. It happens. Next time, you’ll know to be more careful.”

Her lips twitch, jaw clenching, and she trips over the next step. She regains her momentum before he can catch her and doesn’t say a word, but her thoughts are clear as day. _What if there won’t be a next time?_

“Don’t write him off yet. The bastard’s strong.” Usually, he’d have to force a compliment about Cloud through grit teeth. This time around, Barret’s just hoping that it’s true.

They stumble down another few stories in silence, breaths turning to sharp wheezes as they take back every inch of progress they’d made. Barret doesn’t voice his concerns about making it back up to the top, but they’re a lingering fog of worry at the back of his mind. Another to add to his steadily growing collection.

At least they won’t have to run too far down once they’ve got the merc. Barret tries not to think too hard about why that is - that Cloud had fallen almost the entire length of 59 stories before landing stomach first on a thin line of metal. If his wing hadn’t broken his fall, Barret isn’t too sure he wouldn’t be dying of internal bleeding. As it is, there’s still a possibility, but at least it’s decidedly less so.

Barret can’t believe he’s even thinking about people having wings so casually, but it isn’t as if he can deny what’s right in front of his eyes. The further down they get, the more real the thing appears. Barret couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything _other_ than a wing at this point.

Why hadn’t Cloud _said_ anything? Why hadn’t TIfa?

Had they even _known?_

Barret scowls, huffing as they stagger down the last few steps, and they both come to a weak, heaving stop at the railing beside Cloud’s still form. He’s clearly unconscious, though the loose strands of his hair hang limply to cover their view of his face. Barret can make out a faint frown, but that’s the only sign of life he can glean from the merc.

A wave of fresh guilt hits him at seeing the kid so limp and lifeless. He looks like a ragdoll that’s been cast aside - bent and _broken._ Barret feels nauseous even looking at _Cloud,_ let alone his wing. The broken bone is painfully obvious now that they’re so close. A jagged edge of white peeking out from a split in the skin, surrounded by smashed and blood matted feathers.

 _"Cloud,”_ Tifa breathes, voice cracking on the edge of tears, and Barret can’t help having to push down his own, “We have to get him down. We- _Barret.”_

“We will. We gotta be careful, though, aight?”

“He looks....” She takes in a shuddering breath, shoulders rising as she clenches her fists. Barret lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looks up at him with wet, furious eyes until he speaks.

“I know.”

She exhales loudly, closing her eyes to regain her composure, and Barret distances himself a bit as she does. He takes the time to study Cloud while she works through it, grateful that the merc is somewhat close to them instead of further across the wire. Getting him down should be easy, but it’s the moving him downstairs part that Barret’s hesitant about. His wing will be an added weight that they really don’t need right now, and Barret doesn’t have the faintest clue if it’s safe to jostle any of his injuries. 

“Can you get him down from there?” Tifa eventually asks, strong and steady despite the shake in her shoulders. “I can carry him if you...take his wing.”

Barret nods and steps onto the bottom rung of the railing. He isn’t tall enough to wrap his arm fully around Cloud’s torso, but he’s able to get a decent grip on the back of his shirt. He grabs a fistful, bracing himself against the top rung with his gun arm. A light tug has Cloud’s shirt peeling back from his wound, the thick matting of blood already working to seal his shirt to the skin, and Barret hisses in sympathy.

“What- what is it? Is he alive?” Tifa’s anxious and worried beside him, vibrating in place, and all Barret can do is shake his head.

“I don’t know yet. But, uh...this ain’t gon’ be pretty.”

“What-”

Barret pulls. Cloud gasps and jolts as the shirt is ripped away from him, wing shifting as he rises, and something like a choked wail escapes his lips. He thrashes in a panic, and Barret curses violently.

“Shit!”

“He’s alive!”

“No shit! He needs to calm down or he’s gonna-” Barret’s cut off as Cloud gasps, twisting out of his grip and falling back onto the wire. He scrambles at it, feet kicking and wing flapping, and another strangled groan is pulled from him as the broken bone shifts. The pain doesn’t stop him from lashing out, though, and the next thing Barret knows, a boot with the full force of a SOLDIER’s strength is ramming into his good arm. 

“Mother _f_ _ucker!”_ Barret rears back and steadies himself, ignoring the string of pain to lean back down and grab Cloud’s shirt again. The merc writhes in his grip, and Barret’s endlessly grateful for Tifa’s stabilizing hold as he’s nearly pulled over the edge with him. He _heaves_ and ignores Cloud’s pained yell as his wing slides along the wire. The rush of guilt is nearly overwhelming, but Barret refuses to let go now that he’s almost got the kid on their side.

Thankfully, Cloud goes limp again somewhere around the third rung. He’s heavier now, but at least he isn’t fighting Barret every step of the way, aggravating his wounds in new and spectacular fashions like the competitive bastard Barret knows he is. Barret manages to heave him over the rest of the railing without trouble, passing him off to Tifa and reaching out to steady the wing before she pulls it from its perch. The last thing they need is Cloud’s wing falling and hitting the walls.

“Shit, hang on.” Tifa holds Cloud in place, hardly straining beneath his weight, and Barret leans out further than he probably should to get a better grip on Cloud’s wing. It’s lighter than he’d expected, and the feathers are so startlingly soft beneath his fingers that he almost freezes in shock. He inhales sharply and forcibly regathers his wits, turning to nod at Tifa. “Okay, but lower him slowly.”

She gives a nod of assent, and what follows is an excruciatingly slow, careful drag of feathers through Barret’s fingers. Tifa draws Cloud back from the railing with deliberate care, cradling him in her arms as if he’s the most precious thing she’s ever held, and Barret ignores whatever the fuck is going on there in favor of keeping Cloud’s wing steady throughout. After a time, the broken bone slides toward him, and he spreads his fingers to form a strong grip on either side of it, maneuvering the remaining part of the wing until he’s able to step down from the railing and hold it spread sideways from Cloud’s back.

“We’ll need to splint that,” Tifa observes, biting her lip and eyeing the wing nervously.

Barret sighs. He doesn’t know a single damn thing about fixing bird wings, least of all ones that happen to be on humans. “If he made it appear, maybe he can make it disappear.”

The look Tifa gives him says that’s not likely to happen, and Barret resigns himself to recalling every little bit of animal anatomy he’s learned over the years. His knowledge is sparse, and by the way Tifa’s frowning, he’d guess hers is as well.

They move down the stairs as slowly as they’d dragged Cloud from the wires, Tifa whispering small reassurances into his ear as they walk. Barret tries to spend the journey focused on other things, but no matter how much he wants to avoid looking at Cloud, he can’t help but notice how pale the merc is. Lips almost blue and stomach bruised from where his shirt rides up, a pool of blood coating his hair and shoulders, dripping down his neck even as they carry him in an upright position. He looks like death warmed over, and the fact that he has a _wing_ isn’t helping. 

Barret’s trying not to think about it.

But not thinking about the wing means thinking about how he failed Cloud. How he allowed his weakness to slow him down. How he wasn’t there to defend him and Tifa at the top of the stairs.

How he’d failed to catch him.

He looks so young like this, for once devoid of snarky remarks and the crease of a frown. Hair falling to gently frame his face, lips relaxed. He looks like a _kid._

A kid who might be dead.

 _Gaia,_ Barret thinks he’s going to be sick.

“We need to take care of his bullet first,” Tifa breaks the silence as they descend the last few steps, “it looks like a through and through, so we won’t have to take it out, but he’s still lost a lot of blood.”

“You can take care of the bullet on your own,” Barret grunts, turning as she does until they're in the center of the room. The area at the base of the stairs is spacious, but they avoid the large shuttered doors at the far end, instead picking a spot nearer to the round metal pipes and smattering of orange caution signs. The place looks relatively unused, which is a relief, but he knows that any number of emergencies could drive employees to the stairs. They can’t linger long here, but he has no idea where else they could possibly go. “I’ll try to fix up his...wing.”

It shouldn’t still feel unnatural to say the word - to _think_ it - but the thing is...it’s _unnatural._ Sprouted fully formed out of someone’s back after a fifty story drop. Who _does_ that?

Cloud, apparently. Perhaps it’s a SOLDIER thing. Just another reason for Barret to hate their guts; another reason for him to hate Cloud.

He determinedly pushes back the voice in his head that says he _doesn’t_ anymore. That he’s actually grown quite fond of the kid.

“You lower him first and I’ll follow,” Barret guides Tifa, falling to his knees and settling the wing in his lap as she lays Cloud across the floor. It won’t be comfortable, but it’s the best place they’ve got at the moment, and at least they have a flat surface of some kind to operate on.

Tifa’s quick to unpack her supplies, silent in a fervent worry as she works, and Barret focuses on Cloud’s wing. He has a feeling this isn’t going to end so well for them, especially once he starts pushing things back into place, so he begins with cleaning the injury and clipping off the feathers around it. Cloud whines in his sleep as they prod at his wounds, peaceful expression quickly marred by a pained frown. His lips twitch, sweat forming on his brow, and Barret runs a soothing hand over his forehead before he can even think about it. It’s an automatic response to the pain, and he can hear Tifa whispering calming words right alongside him, but something tightens in Barret’s chest as he cards a hand through Cloud’s hair. Something heated and protective that has him wishing desperately that he could pull the other man into a hug.

Barret doesn’t take the time to examine the feelings too closely, distracted by the glint of white as he moves to do the hardest part. Beside him, Tifa holds down Cloud’s shoulders, and Barret doesn’t even count to three before he realigns Cloud’s wing. A scream echoes off the walls of the stairwell, and Tifa has to press the entire length of her body to him as he struggles, mako eyes flaring open in sheer agony. He looks dazed and confused for a second, breaths short with panic, and something in Barret’s chest tightens at seeing the kid so distraught.

“Cloud! Cloud it’s just us. We promise you’re safe. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Tifa attempts to soothe him, hands flying across his body to contain any movement too strenuous. It’s a job for more than one person, Barret knows. Handcuffs or ties, at the very least. He’s impressed with how well she’s doing, but it won’t be enough if Cloud utilizes his full strength and actually tries to throw her off.

“It’s Barret and Tifa,” Barret clarifies, clear and concise in a way that he hopes gets through the fog of panic, “we’re helpin’ you, do you hear? You fell.”

Cloud subsides at that, blinking rapidly, and Tifa’s quick to take advantage. “We’re in the Shinra headquarters. Barret, you, and me were climbing the stairs when you got shot. Do you remember?”

He goes deathly still for a moment, lashes fluttering. Then he swallows and clears his throat, gaze flickering between Tifa and Barret a few too many times to be reassuring. “...Tifa?” he finally tries, and the slur in his voice has Barret’s heart sinking.

“Yeah!” Tifa only sounds relieved. “Yes, it’s me. Oh, thank Gaia you’re okay. We were- we were so worried.”

Cloud blinks again. “Barret?”

“Well, he wouldn’t ever admit it.”

Barret snorts. “You were pretty out of it, merc. What do you remember?”

“That- I remember...” he trails off, seemingly caught up in his head, and Barret can pinpoint the exact moment he recalls the wing. His expression morphs into one of pure horror, body going taut and breaths coming out short and strained with terror. Barret’s stomach drops at the sight, and within seconds he’s struggling to keep Cloud’s wing steady as the merc all but tries to tear himself violently apart from the limb, eyes wide and glued to the thing as if it’s the devil incarnate.

“Cloud, it’s okay,” Tifa tries again, but he just shakes his head, once more tugging at Barret’s hold. As if breaking free of Barret will free him of the limb; as if this is all some sick dream that he can pull himself out of. 

Barret wishes it was.

“It’s _not._ It’s not okay. It’s- get it off.”

Barret scowls. “If you know how to make it disappear, then please go ahead, but it ain’t exactly a detachable piece.”

Cloud lets out a noise of protest, wild eyed and trembling, and the utter break in his usual composure is painful to see. Barret glances at Tifa, hoping to glean some sort of advice from the woman who knows him best, but she’s just as distressed as Barret is right now, fretting over Cloud with shaking hands.

“Then cut it off!” Barret’s blood runs cold, mouth going dry with shock. “Cut it off! Just-”

“Absolutely _not.”_ Barret doesn’t yell, but he might as well have for the way Cloud reels back. “Nobody’s cuttin’ off anybody's limbs. The hell are you on?! We ain’t fuckin’ torturin’ you cause you’ve grown a wing all of a sudden.” Though it sure is a hell of a strange circumstance, and Barret wouldn't mind a few damn answers at some point.

Cloud falls silent. His throat works soundlessly, limbs frozen, and Tifa takes the opportunity to press his shoulders back onto the hard floor. Barret loosens his grip on Cloud’s wing a bit in apology, petting over the ruffled feathers in the hopes of smoothing away some pain. 

There’s a quiet sort of panic in Cloud’s eyes, now. The kind that has only the slightest of tells, Cloud’s lips thinning and his fingers twitching. His breath barely even catches as Tifa wraps his bare shoulder in bandages, eyes tracking her every movement with a fevered hypervigilance. When Barret so much as thinks of shifting, Cloud’s eyes snap to him quick as lightning, but they still don’t fall on his wing.

“So, I take it this is a new development.”

Tifa huffs, casting a reproachful look at Barret for his bluntness, but Cloud doesn’t react except to lick his lips. His fingers twitch again, knees jumping, and his gaze skirts the edges of his wing before he locks eyes with Barret.

“Yeah…” he finally croaks, swallowing a few times afterward to clear his voice, “I- I don’t want it.”

Barret’s lips twitch into a bitter smile. “Join the club. I know a thing or two about limbs you don’t agree with. Thought I was a monster for a long time, cause of my arm.”

“But it’s...it’s not the same. I _am_ a monster. You...you’ve just…”

“Just got one arm?” Barret fills in, snorting when Cloud blushes. The merc turns away, flinching at a particularly harsh pull to his bandages, and Tifa’s whispered apology is the only sound to fill the silence for a time. Then Cloud ventures a tentative glance over at Barret again, and he takes that as his queue to continue. “I lost it in a bad way," he explains gently, "and what I replaced it with...well. It ain’t exactly all sunshine and daisies, is it? I say I use it for good, but I still hurt people.”

Cloud chances a glance at his gun arm. A complicated expression passes across his face, mako eyes running along the hunk of metal with the intensity of a man attempting to decipher the wills of the universe. Then he peers over at his own wing, expression instantly twisting to one of pure disgust. The limbs flutters lightly in Barret’s hand - a weak attempt at pulling it away again - but Barret stubbornly remains where he is. He doesn't stop running his fingers through the feathers, even as Cloud burns a hole in them with a poisonous glare. It’s a strange feeling, for once not being tempted to rise to the merc’s bait. Barret can’t say he hates it, though he has a hunch it isn’t going to last long.

“I know it ain’t the same,” Barret says before Cloud can rile himself up again, “but I also know that my arm doesn’t make me a monster, just as this doesn’t make you one.”

Cloud turns away, hell bent on not listening to a word Barret says like the little shit he is. Barret sighs and remains quiet, but there might be the hint of a scowl when Tifa speaks next, instantly garnering the full weight of Cloud's attention.

“I had a hard time, after everything that happened to us," she begins, pausing to gauge their interest with a shy glance. She bites her lip and focuses her attention on Cloud's shoulder, turning her head away from his ardent stare. His interest is practically palpable, and Barret can see her blush clear as day on the pale rise of her cheekbones. "I...changed," she murmurs, "I got angrier and more violent and I learned how to fight, and there was this _fire_ in me that never stopped burning, no matter how much I hit or kicked or punched. I know- I know it’s different. But I understand where you’re coming from...when it comes to _growing_ things you don't want - that you can't _control._ You’re not a monster, Cloud.”

“But the wing, it’s-”

“I know.” There’s something there that neither of them is telling him, but Barret’s just relieved Cloud seems to be listening to someone. If they had more time, perhaps they could actually get somewhere significant with the kid, but it would be rash to linger here much longer. More dangerous than Barret could possibly risk.

It’s a tentative peace they’ve found in the midst of their high stakes mission, and nobody can deny that quite a few shocks have hit all of their systems in the past hour, but he knows they need to get moving soon if they want to reach Aerith in time. Knows that Cloud is going to have to live with the wing for a bit longer until they can find a solution or an answer or _something._ They can’t help him right now, beyond offering rushed platitudes and stale comfort. The inability to do anything _stings._ Another inadequacy to add to his pile of failures. Letting Cloud get hurt and allowing him to fall. His fumbled, pointless attempt at comfort and care. _Everything._

"Thank you, Barret." 

Barret blinks. "What?"

Cloud flushes down to his bright blonde roots, tomato red and furious. "I ain't sayin' it again!" he hisses, and Barret barks out a laugh.

"Shit, kid. You really are a pain in my damn ass."

"Aren't we all?" Tifa laughs.

"Nah, everybody else on the team is a damn angel compared to him." 

There's a beat of silence, Tifa's smile dimming as her eyes widen, and Barret finds Cloud's sudden reticence strange until he realizes what he'd just said.

 _Team._ He'd said _team._

But Cloud is on the team, isn't he? Barret doesn’t know when exactly he started to consider Cloud a part of it, but it’s an impossible idea to shake now that it’s taken root. He wants the arrogant little shit around, Gaia forbid. He wants him in the _family._ Despite every misgiving Barret's had about the merc's past and his attitude and his occupation - despite _everything_ that's told him Cloud can't be trusted - he still wants to make him a part of the team. But the Cloud Barret's gotten to know is different from the front he puts up. Vulnerable and kind and loving. Willing to risk everything for Tifa and Aerith alike. Hell, he'd been willing to risk his life for _Jessie_ and Biggs and Wedge, too. For _Barret._

_He'd almost died today._

Barret's heart clenches, and he almost blurts out his thoughts right then and there to his quiet team members - almost lets the whole world know exactly what he's thinking. But it isn't that simple, he knows. Things like this can't just be said in the middle of a mission, high on stress and painful revelations. It needs to be done with the whole team around. When they're all comfortable and relaxed; when they're all a _family._

 _After the mission,_ Barret decides, _I’ll offer him a serious place here with us._

Even if Cloud doesn’t want to be in Avalanche, that doesn’t mean he can’t still be a part of the team. Hell, Tifa’s practically an outside member already. It wouldn’t be so unusual, and Cloud would probably appreciate the steady income.

_After the mission, we’ll give him a home._

But for now, Barret takes what he can get. He sets Cloud’s wing in a splint and talks about his arm. Shares stories with Tifa as Cloud drifts in and out of consciousness and runs a soothing hand through Cloud’s hair when the heat gets to be too much, temperature burning him up from the inside. 

Even the smallest of kindnesses seems to make Cloud melt, once his barriers are finally torn down. And every touch has him humming, every word listened to with a keen interest that he tries so desperately to mask.

Cloud _needs_ a family, Barret realizes. He wants one more than anything. And Barret aches to tell him that he has one. That Avalanche would live and kill and die for him - every single member. That Tifa loves him and Barret...Barret’s fond of him. 

But Barret waits. He has to. Because if he says anything now, the entire mission could be ruined, and a 59 story drop with the surprise emergence of a wing is enough for any group to handle on the best of days.

 _After the mission,_ he reminds himself one last time, _tomorrow._

Unfortunately for all of them, tomorrow is a long time coming.

And the mission has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: broken bones, bullet wounds, falling from a great height, blood and injury, graphic depictions of injury and pain.
> 
> A/N  
> Thank you all for reading! 😊 The flight of stairs was a hell design in the game, so I did the best I could with what I had lol. The wires are actually a thing? But I based this off of the bottom up view instead of the sideways view, so it probably reads a bit differently than how the area actually looked. IG, I think the wires were a bit more slanted, instead of sort of horizontal, like I remembered them.


End file.
